


Interlude 1 - Moon over Miami

by shibarifan01



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibarifan01/pseuds/shibarifan01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of sweet loving while John and Harold are in Florida with John recuperating from an injury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude 1 - Moon over Miami

**Author's Note:**

> Stand alone story - though there will be others, probably based on more songs. Short - around 1000 words - just a break while work is quiet.
> 
> Sweet tender loving, established relationship, Florida (Key West, really) while John is getting better.
> 
> Got the idea while listening to Ray Charles' Moon over Miami - go listen to it on youtube - here is a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAiegL3J5KE
> 
> Nothing earth shattering - just loving and tenderness - a bit cloying - I'll let you be the judge.
> 
> Still negotiating with Mr. Finch who wants a go at John because he's incensed to have learned that John's had a few more sessions with Wesley... not a happy camper our Mr. Finch! We'll see if we can put him out of his misery in the next few days...

 

Harold wakes suddenly, and slightly disoriented, takes a few second to catch his bearings. He hears the soft roar of the ocean and a smile appears on his lips. Turning around, he is surprised not to feel John’s solid weight on the other side of the bed. It does not look slept in and the sheets are cool and crisp to the touch. He refuses to let concern take a hold, he knows John cannot be far.

He picks up his dressing gown, without bothering to cinch it at the waist and pads softly and sleepily to the kitchen. Passes his head through the living room, no John… and through the den, still no John.  Arriving in the kitchen where the windows are opened, the night air surprises him and he realises that it’s probably the sprinkler system stopping its whooshing sound that awoke him. Now thoroughly wet, the plants give off their smell in the evening air: hibiscus, jacaranda, laurel, the perfume is riotous and he stops to think what a brilliant idea he had to rent this small house in Key West so that John could recuperate from a knife wound suffered while pursuing a number who turned out to be the owner of a Russian martial arts school who had decided to improvise himself arms dealer.

Dealing with the big mafia conglomerates had not been a good idea for the small-time Onassis and when the hired musclemen of his competitors had decided to rearrange the man’s face, John had gotten in the way. Though the cut was not too long by John’s standard, meaning less than six inches from end to end, it was very deep and the doctors had been afraid for peritonitis because it had happened very low on his belly. It had been touch and go for a week and as soon as Finch had been able, he’d manoeuvered his employee to John’s loft, where he was now also living most of the time. John never having been a good patient, he was hankering to get back to work so Harold had resorted to do something he almost never did, namely take a week’s vacation.

So he had rented this small 1930s cottage, a true departure from his usual large and sometimes overstuffed safe houses. He’d rented it for two reasons: it was small and surrounded by a very large garden, which gave them the privacy they wanted, and the back of the structure stood facing the ocean and sported a wide veranda. The large, extremely comfortable, double lounge chair was an added bonus and John had almost taken to living there, to Harold’s delight.  He never got tired of seeing him relaxing for once, reading, listening to music, ordering Finch about for an extra blanket, a pot of tea, a beer or something to eat. He’d started walking again, though gingerly, and Harold loved nothing more, around five o’clock in the afternoon, when the ocean became still and calm as a lake, than to take John by the hand and walk slowly in the warm, white sand of the beach. They’d walk back just as slowly and usually ended up making love in the cool of the early evening before having a shower and crossing the street to one of the small restaurants in the nearby streets.

Hearing a soft cough, he turns his head toward the veranda and realises that that was where John has been all along. He’s probably fallen asleep there late in the evening, and never bothered to make his way back to the bedroom. He opens the door softly, so as not to wake him and standing there, watches him sleep for a few minutes. But a small whimper, with John moving his hand near the white bandage covering the scar, prompts Harold to move. John also appears to be cold, trying to hold himself in and burrow in the chair. Finch does not want him to catch a cold so he goes back inside, picks up a large comforter and makes his way back to the veranda.

He places it gently around John and, removing his dressing gown, he fits himself at John’s back and tightens the blanket around them both. John’s body is cool the touch and it makes him shiver slightly – he knows it will not be long before the inside of their little makeshift tent is warm and toasty.

 He smiles softly as John’s gangly body is cradled by his smaller one, John playing the little spoon to his big one. He snorts delightedly and kisses the nape of his lover’s neck, breathing warm air at John's neck to ward off the chill, and sees the short hairs at nape of John's neck stand up, and he shivers slightly. He smooths the area with his tongue, peppering a few more kisses and rubs his cheek tenderly against the top of John’s shoulder. The taller man sighs and lets a quiet “Hey, there, Mr. Finch,” his smile being heard through his words. “Mmmph,” is all the reply he receives, Harold being busy kissing him again. “Can we stay here like this forever?” adds John, halfway asleep still. “Ha!” says Harold, “would that we could. I could get used to this very easily!” And then, “Shhhh, go back to sleep, I just came to bring you a blanket, you looked cold,” says Harold. John takes Harold’s arm and wraps it around him: “Stay, Harold, the night is so beautiful.”

“I have no intention of going anywhere Mr. Reese, I’m way too comfortable” adds Harold, dryly with a small laugh. “Wild horses and all that, you know…”

“Well that’s good then, don’t want no wild horses and all that,” mumbles John sounding oh, so young, sleepily extending his arm out of the blanket to bring up the sound on the docking station near the table at the side of the chair where they are both lying. The sweet melody of Ray Charles’ Moon over Miami lulls them to a comfortable state of bliss. “I love you, Mr. Reese,” says Harold, using John’s last name as a term of endearment, but John does not reply, he is already sound asleep.


End file.
